No sign of her.
The female bartender comes over to me and gives me a smile. “What’ll it be?”
I order a whiskey on the rocks, then turn so that I can survey the club.
The dance floor is packed and the lights are dim. I look at the faces one by one, trying to sort them out so that I can keep track of my work. But the task is nearly impossible. There must be over a hundred people on the floor, and they’re moving so much that I can’t keep track.
“Here’s that whiskey,” I hear.
I turn and see that the bartender has placed my drink on the counter. She lingers for a moment, and I see that interested look in her eyes. I know that women find me attractive, and I’m used to getting this look.
But I don’t return it. There’s only one woman that I want to see tonight.
I pick up my drink and sip it, still watching the crowds around me. Part of me has already given up. Why did I think that she would be here? She did say that she rarely went out, didn’t she? I remember how conservative, reserved, and quiet she was. Not the club type.
I glance at my watch. It’s almost midnight. She’s probably at home in her cozy little apartment, tucked into her bed with a book in hand, with the cat that scared the shit out of me in the bed next to her.
Or a guy.
She could have a boyfriend, now. Or—the thought of this makes me take a long sip of my drink—a husband.
Though I’ve only just gotten the drink, as I raise it to my lips and tip it upwards, I realize that I’m swallowing the last of it.
It’s loud in here. Because of the noise, the hyper energy, and the lack of the blonde I wanted to see, I set the empty glass on the table and don’t ask for another one. I’m shrugging on my jacket, about to step away from the bar for good, when I hear a voice behind me.
A familiar voice.
“I’ll have a vodka tonic,” says the voice. “And a whiskey…on the rocks, if I remember correctly.”
I swivel around.
It’s Valerie. She glances sideways at me, flicking her green eyes up and looking at me through those thick lashes, a smile on her full lips.
Chapter 8
Valerie
I can’t believe it.
The man I’ve looked for non-stop, for months on end, is now standing right in front of me.
He’s here.
He’s really here!
I’ve stopped by this club a fair few times, hoping that this moment might occur. But now that it’s happening, I feel completely unprepared.
Though I’ve dreamed constantly about my fateful encounter with Garrett on that hot, muggy August night a year ago, in reality, it was very brief. I know next to nothing about this man, except that he’s the father of my child.
My son. Our son. Dylan.
This past year, when I’ve imagined Garrett, I remember him as tall, dark, muscular, and drop-dead gorgeous.
But the picture in my mind was way off. The man before me is more than just physically attractive. He’s radiating this sexy vibe that makes me remember why I acted completely out of character that night and took him home: it was impossible not to.
Oops, I’m staring at him.
He doesn’t seem to mind.
Neither of us has spoken a word. The bartender brings our drinks and sets them in front of us. I push my card out towards her and she takes it away.
Still, Garrett and I haven’t spoken. I can tell that he remembers me, though, by the way his lips have turned into a subtle grin. Not only does he recognize me, but he’s happy to see me.
As I remembered, his eyes are heavy with pain. Whatever this man does for a living, it’s taken a toll on him. Compared to the lighthearted revelers that gab and laugh around us, Garrett is practically a black hole of emotion.
I feel the desire, just as I did last time, to relieve his suffering.
“Are you okay?” I ask. It seems like an odd first thing to say, since I haven’t seen him for so long, and I barely know him. But for some reason, it feels right.
“I am now,” he says. His voice is deep and husky, barely audible over the thumping bass of the dance song that’s pumping out of the speakers mounted behind the bar.
He’s just paid me a compliment with his words, but it’s the look in his eyes that really lets me know he’s happy to see me. I see a sparkle there. It’s coming from deep down within him, and it’s the best birthday present I’ve gotten all day.
“Today’s my birthday,” I tell him.
Again, it’s an odd thing to say, but Garrett takes my awkwardness in stride.
He glances at his watch. “Good timing—one minute to spare. Happy birthday, Valerie,” he says. He lifts his glass.
I’m pleased that he remembers my name. Maybe that night meant something to him, just like it did to me.
I’ve never thought of that night as a mistake.
Not once.
Now, as I raise my glass up and smile at Garrett, I feel it in my bones, even stronger than before: our one night together was a powerful union to be treasured, not something to regret. I want him to know that I feel that way. I want to tell him everything—even about Dylan—but I don’t know how.
Instead, I mirror him and tap my glass against his. He looks directly into my eyes as we each take a sip.
Suddenly, I’m right back to where I was last summer. I have the same feeling of being dared to keep pace with him. It’s like he’s asking me with his eyes if I’m willing to go as far as he is.
The drinks in our hands are more than just drinks. They’re a promise that there’s more to come.
It’s funny, actually. The girlfriends I came out with—Liz and Chrissy and a few others—had to beg me to take the night off from mothering. I wanted to spend the night curled up with Dylan, but they’d insisted that I celebrate my twenty-eighth birthday in style. So, I took Dylan to my mom’s and met up with my girlfriends. Ironically, they all peeled off one at a time over the last half hour or so, and I—the one who was so reluctant to go out in the first place—was the last one here.
I didn’t want to leave.
Something inside of me made me want to stay. Now, I know why.
“It’s been a while…” I say vaguely, leaning against the bar as I look at Garrett. He’s standing near me, and he’s so tall that I have to tilt my chin up to look into his eyes. He’s in his leather jacket—the same one he was wearing the last time I saw him.
“It has,” he says. “I haven’t been back this way in…over a year.”
“Since last summer?”
He nods. “Work’s been taking me all over…lots of jobs in Dallas, a few in Austin.”
“What is it, exactly, that you do?” I ask.
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about work,” Garrett says. There’s a bit of a playful tone to his voice. He’s teasing me, in his own way.
I feel like we’ve gone back in time. We’re back to the night we first met, and that’s okay with me. What girl wouldn’t want to step back into the best night of her life?
“Oh…right,” I say. “No work talk.”
We look at each other in silence for another beat. It’s amazing how much this man can tell me without speaking a word.
He’s happy to see me; I’m certain of this. He’s facing me, standing closer than necessary. I can feel his body heat. In addition to his leather riding jacket, he’s wearing faded jeans and a tight, charcoal grey tee. His hair is longer than when I saw him last, falling into his eyes. His stubble is more pronounced. It covers his jaw and chin, drawing my attention to their sharp definition.
He looks more muscular than the last time I saw him—but that might just be a trick of my mind. I’m not used to seeing people so ripped. Each time he moves to sip his drink, his biceps bulge.
I feel faint as I watch him, taking in the nonverbal cues that he’s giving me. The way he’s standing so close and his frequent eye contact tell me that he wants me—just as much as I want him.
In fact, if we weren’t
in this crowded bar, I’d want him to lean down and kiss me.
In a flash, I’m remembering the way he caught me off guard with that kiss, last August. I was standing there at my front door, fumbling with the lock and stressing about what the hell I was going to serve this guy to drink, when he just leaned down and kissed me.
He’s not much of a talker. His primary mode of communication seems to be physical touching. And, honestly, that’s fine by me. Another flash of a memory courses through me: Garrett, on top of me, my legs over his shoulders. I feel myself heat up with desire.
Totally fine by me.
I feel my cheeks heat up. Garrett seems to read my mind. He leans in towards me, until his lips are just a few inches from my ear.
“I’ve thought about you a lot, you know,” he says.
I feel myself shiver with desire. I wonder what he’s thought about me. I wonder if he replays the memory of our lovemaking as often as I do.
“Same here,” I manage. “About you… I—I had a good time with you.” My words are as awkward and inefficient as if it’s my first time speaking English. What’s wrong with me?
“Just a good time?” He raises an eyebrow. “I can do better than that, if you let me try.”
Oh. My. God. Is he proposing what I think he’s proposing? My body is heating from the inside out, and I feel a tingling sensation growing between my legs.
Now, my blush grows deeper.
I want to go home with him. I want to be in bed with him—to feel his mouth on mine and the sensation of his hands on my body.
But so much has changed, since last time.
Dylan.
I think of my son, at my mother’s house for the night. She’ll bring him back in the morning.
How am I going to tell this man about his son? Our son. Garrett is no longer a mysterious, sexy stranger to me. He’s the father of my child.
I look down at my drink. Garrett seems to sense my hesitation.
“Are you…seeing someone?” he asks. “I don’t mean to…” his voice drifts off.
I look up. “No, it’s not that,” I say. “There’s no one else in the picture.”
I want him to know that he’s the only man I’ve been thinking about, all this time.
“Oh,” he says.
“Garrett…” I pause, not knowing how to bring up the subject matter of our child. I want to approach it, but the words won’t seem to leave my mouth.
The bar is so crowded, so loud. Maybe, if we went back to my place, I could find a way to tell him. It will be quieter there—a better environment.
Plus, the tingling sensation of arousal simply won’t go away. My body is begging me to let my guard down, for a second time.
I want him.
I step closer to him and place a hand on his chest. My awareness of the crowd surrounding us fades as I move closer and closer, until our bodies are flush. Now, I can feel him—his legs against mine, the flat plane of his stomach, his muscular chest under my palm.
“I haven’t seen anyone else since the night we spent together,” I say, speaking into his ear.
“Really?” he asks.
“Really.”
The whole club has become a kind of warm, pulsing, hazy cocoon around me. All of my senses are focused on Garrett. He smells like body wash and fresh laundry; the cotton of his T-shirt is soft to the touch. I can feel his heart beating in his chest, nearly in time with the music.
As the sensations take over, I start to forget myself. I forget that I’m a usually uptight high school math teacher. I forget that I’m usually opposed to public displays of affection, and almost always too shy to make the first move.
All of that slips from my mind as effortlessly as the ice is melting in my drink. It feels like a natural undoing. There’s no fighting mother nature. It’s a formidable force.
I let my body lead the way, and I start to speak Garrett’s language. Instead of words, I use touch to tell him how I feel.
I set my drink down on the counter to my right, then place both palms on his chest. His heartbeat is strong and steady. My hands slide up towards his neck, and then up to the back of his head. I weave my fingers through his hair and tilt my face up. I don’t have to pull him towards me. He’s already leaning down, farther and farther, until his lips are a hair’s breadth from mine.
He pauses there.
I wait, too, enjoying the magnetic sensation our bodies have created. Waiting for the impending kiss feels like counting out the seconds before thunder booms, once you’ve seen the lightning. Though light travels faster than sound, the crack of thunder is sure to follow.
Our bodies are melded together. The club is miles from my mind. Even the music has faded to barely a whisper in my consciousness. All of my focus is on the tiniest gap between our lips.
I don’t know which one of us closes the gap, but suddenly, we’re kissing. The room, which has been fading from my awareness, now completely disappears. Our kiss is hungry. Passionate. Deep.
I feel his body press into mine. One of his arms wraps around my back. My fingers rake through the hair at the base of his head. We pull each other closer. Neither one of us seems to want the kiss to end, but eventually, we break apart. Though I was the one to initiate the contact, I feel shocked by how powerfully my body is reacting to his.
I haven’t felt this kind of intense, physical lust and desire since the last time I saw him. I’m breathing heavily, gasping as my chest rises and falls. Garrett is as well.
Between breaths, he speaks. “My bike is outside.” He eyes me. “Do you remember how to ride?”
I know that he’s talking about riding a motorcycle. I remember his instructions: “Just hold on tight.”
I nod. “I live in the same apartment,” I say.
“Let’s get out of here.”
It’s a statement, not a question. He hasn’t even finished his drink. Neither have I. We abandon them at the bar, and he leads the way out, brushing past me on his way to the exit. As he passes by me, he reaches for my hand. He holds it as he leads me through a maze of people. It’s like he’s parting the seas. I follow close behind him.
Standing this close to him, with the heat of his hand holding mine, I can’t quite clear my head. The world continues to swirl around me. Nothing seems to matter, except the feel of Garrett’s hand in mine.
I follow him blindly, not worrying about the annoyed looks from the people that he bumps into as he forces his way towards the door. We make it to the bar’s exit and he pushes open the door. The night air greets us, and once we’re out under the stars, he surprises me by turning around. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight.
Garrett leans down and kisses me again. I feel as though I’ve been holding my breath. As his lips touch mine, I can breathe again. We kiss as though we’re lovers who were destined for one another—and maybe we are. His strong hands move up my back, and I arch my body towards him. My arms are around his neck. My lips part; I feel his tongue against mine.
I’m melting. I don’t know how we’re going to make it home, at this rate. If I could, I would strip down right here and now. But we’re on the sidewalks of San Antonio. I’m sure there are people passing by us, staring, as we make out right here outside of the club, but I just don’t care.
When he pulls away from me, I feel like I’m being robbed of oxygen. My only consolation is that the sooner we stop kissing like this, the sooner we can be in my bed, without these layers of clothing between us.
“I can’t believe how much I’ve missed you,” he says.
His words are sentimental. I feel my heart about to burst. This isn’t just about sex, is it?
“Garrett, I tried to find you…after the last time,” I whisper.
“I’m not that easy to find, am I?” he asks.
I shake my head and look down. I feel my hair fall in front of my eyes like a curtain. I’m thinking of all of the work that the private investigator did. I frown. I won’t tell him that now. Not yet.
&n
bsp; “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says.
Sweetheart. He called me sweetheart last time, too. This makes me even more weak at the knees than his powerful kisses. More than anything in the world, I want to be Garrett’s sweetheart.
“What’s your last name?” I ask. I need to protect myself from losing him again. I know we’re about to go to my place, but what if I forget to ask? What if he disappears again? I look up at him.
He steps closer. He moves the hair out of my eyes and tucks it behind my ear.
“Lawson,” he says. “Garrett Lawson.” He grins. I see that twinkle in his eyes. He’s happy to tell me this, for some reason.
“Valerie Brown,” I say.
He leans down and kisses me. This kiss is soft and tender. I won’t ever tire of feeling his lips on mine—learning the varying expressions in his wordless language. This kiss is sentimental and sweet. He’s saying that he’s glad to know my name. I respond by moving my lips—brushing them lightly against his. I’m happy to know his name, too.
“Ready to ride?” he asks, cupping my face in his large hands and looking into my eyes.
I nod. My head moves in his hands. He strokes my face with his thumbs and stares into my eyes in a way that makes me shiver.
“You remember—hold on tight,” he says.
“And you’ll do the rest,” I finish.
He reaches for my hand again and leads me to the bike. Once we’re standing beside it, he takes the helmet off its place, hanging on the handlebars. He helps me fit it over my head, then buckles the chin strap for me.
When he gets on the bike, I don’t hesitate before stepping my leg over so that I’m behind him. I’m much less nervous about the ride this time, and as he pulls away from the curb, my heart is soaring. I feel like I’m in the middle of a dream. I grip onto Garrett, marveling at how solid he is under my fingertips.
He isn’t just a figment of my imagination. And I have a feeling that this night is about to get even better than anything I could come up with in my dreams.
After all of these months of waiting, I’m finally going home with Garrett.
Garrett Lawson.
And this time, I won’t let him disappear without a trace.
Secret Daddy Surprise - A Secret Baby Romance (Once a SEAL, Always a SEAL Book 4) Page 6